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“Oh, you’re finally here,” Mr. Nasteau said as she knocked on his door and introduced herself.
She felt a moment of panic, glancing at her watch and then the one on his desk. She was fifteen minutes early.
“I’m sorry. I was told to be here at nine. Is that wrong?”
“It’s not wrong, but I’m here by seven. I guess if nine is when you can get here, then that is how things are.”
Jaycee said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was best to just wait and mention it to Marilyn Stutt, to see what she thought of it. For now, she just needed to get on with things.
“Where should I start?” she asked.
‘I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes. Drop your things on the desk next door. That’ll be your workspace, if you work out. Find a notebook and pen and be ready to leave when I do. You’ll need to take notes. Also, get me a refill on my coffee. Cream and Sugar.”
There was no “thanks” or “please.” There was no indication of how much cream and sugar or where to get such things. She felt panicked for a moment but took a deep breath and prioritized the things at hand. Okay. Immediate need was coffee. She dropped her purse in the chair behind the desk and hurried down the hall toward another office. Stepping inside, she looked at the young girl there.
“I need help.”
The girl looked up at her and smiled. At least she seemed friendly. That was good.
“What do you need?”
“Coffee, for Mr. Nasteau. I don’t know where to get it.”
“Ah, easy. Come on,” the girl said, already up from her desk and walking briskly down the hall. They walked a few doors past her office and entered a small kitchenette. “You’re in luck. Someone made a fresh pot.”
She showed her the cabinet where the paper cups were kept and pulled one down, putting coffee in it with room left for cream and sugar.
“I can finish it.”
“First day?” the girl asked, ignoring her comment, and pulling cream from a nearby mini fridge.
“Yes.”
“Then, no you can’t. He didn’t tell you how to make it and he’ll be a little bitch if you take it back to him with wrong amounts. So, see this little scoop right here?” she asked, picking up a small, rounded container with a handle. “One of these with cream and a half-one of these with sugar. Stir well and take it to his office, pour it in that nasty-ass cup on his desk that he will not let out of his sight. Once a day, when you catch it empty and him out of the office for a bit, bring it down here and wash it so he doesn’t get some kind of coffee grime disease or some shit. Or don’t. You can spit wash it if you want, that might be your choice by the time you’ve put up with enough of his shit.
“Thank you. You’re a life saver. I’m Jaycee, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Jaycee. I’m Valerie, Val, for short.”
“Thanks again, Val. I’ve got to run!”
“Yeah, ya do,” she said with a little laugh and a nod.
“Did you have to pick the beans yourself?” Nasteau barked as she refilled his cup.
“Yes,” she replied without batting an eyelash.
His eyes shot to her for a moment and then back to the coffee. He reached for it and took a sip, no doubt prepared to complain. Instead, he sat it down and turned back toward his computer. She stood there for a moment, wondering what she should do. When he offered no further instruction, she turned to go, but he stopped her.
“All right, let’s get to this meeting then.”
She felt panicked again. She hadn’t had time to look for a pad and paper and he was already making his way around his desk and out the door.
Fuck. All right; figure it out on the way, Jaycee.
Glancing around inside the rapidly filling conference room, she found no sign of a notepad or pen. She could dart back down to the office while he was getting settled in, but she risked the meeting starting before she got back or him noticing. Realizing she had her phone in her jacket pocket, she fished it out, opened the dictation app on it and prayed it worked well enough for this with no outer mic. She noted him glancing over at her with a disapproving look.
Fuck. He probably thinks I’m playing on my phone.
Oh well. Nothing she could do about it, she decided. She tried to absorb as much as she could in case the recording failed. Hopefully, she could create it from memory. Her nerves were ragged as she sat there, and the meeting went on for almost an hour. It was a long time for the phone battery to hold and a lot to transcribe, after the fact. When it was done, she hit stop on the phone, deposited it in her pocket and waited to see what he had to say.
